Stan really thought he would shit his pants when Dr. Hilbert asked for his report.
It better be important, Stan.
It is, Sir.
Go on, then...
C-Unit, Sir.
What of it?
An animal has gone missing.
That is why I built the lab here, Stan: escapes happen. Is it the manticore again? The black-bearded unicorn?
Both are tucked safely in their containment pods.
I don't like this. Spit it out.
It's Merlin, Doctor.
11-271-46?
Correct, Sir.
No... No, no, no -- not the Lobster. How?
That is up for debate, Sir. We believe he may have picked the lock on his pod.
How is that possible?
Well, it's interesting: yesterday was Merlin's birthday, and Marcus gave him a set of screwdrivers --
I'm sorry?
-- quite a nice set - ratchets too.
So he got out. He couldn't have got far. Yes, he's twlve feet long, but he is also a lobster.
Merlin is no mere lobster, Doctor.
Spill it, Stan.
It's just, Marcus and me, we knew Merlin had been going through a tough time, what with Billy passing away --
126-08?
Yes, Old Billy.
The Leprechaun.
He and Merlin were very close . Like I said, with Merlin in such a funk over the Leprechaun's overdose, Marcus and me wanted to cheer him up, develop some new hobbies, per se.
Such as?
Mountain biking.
You taught my lobster to ride a bike?
Mountain bike.
I'm gobsmacked.
I'll etch this in stark relief, sir: Merlin is not in his pod, the lock is picked, and Marcus's bike is missing from our office.
A moment here, Stan, let me call down to security........ There. You needn't worry, Stan; our boys are on his trail now.
Oh are they? Hmmmm...
What, Stanley?
Well, Merlin was always crabbing about his insomnia. I used to leave him old magazines to read in his pod.
Magazines?
Yes.
He can read?
Oh yes, very well.
Underwater?
I laminate them in the office.
Is there something about these magazines we should know?
Merlin was a big fan of Soldier Of Fortune. Positively religious about it. He practically memorized one issue, May of '88, "How to Disapear into the Wilderness".
Okay, Stan, my team know Owls Head quite well.
Yeaaahhhh, unfortunately, Sir, Merlin, clever bugger that he is, had many old maps of Owls Head, from Marcus; we encouraged his interest in geography. Old Indian maps marking many underwater caves that lead back to the ocean, places only minutes from the lab by bike.
Do you have copies of these maps?
Of course. Here...
I'll alert my team to arm themselves, and search some of these areas.
You should tell the extraction team about the nutcrackers.
Sorry?
Marcus and myself, we went down to your welding shop a month back, and we made Merlin some nutcrackers - you know, walnut crackers? The kind you use on, well, you know, lobsters. In retrospect not such a good idea, but at the time, the irony was -- well here, a photo of Merlin wielding them in his pod.
Is this a Christmas card?
Yeah..
Is there anything else you haven't told me, Stan?
We trained him in mixed martial arts.
Why?
So he could put a rear-naked choke on 64-723, the hobgoblin.
Anything else?
He has a passport.
Anything else?
He can speak spanish.
Anything else?
He can drive a car. Not stick, his spindly legs are shit with a clutch. Also he stole Marcus's cell phone.
He did?
And Marcus is dead.
What?! How!?
It's not for sure, but Merlin called me from Marcus's phone, and told me Marcus is, and I quote: Nutcrackered. He's getting cocky; he's getting a real taste for it now.
Taste for what?
For us, Sir. For us. If that lobster gets across the way via the underwater caverns, gets to Rockland, he might nutcracker his way into an El Camino, drive down to the docks, encite a bunch of Spaniards -- Rockland will burn. I'd call this Defcon One. It's a doomsday scenario, Doc, and there's only one option.
No, Stan, we can't.
We must. 622-11. Operation Inanimate Object was considered a failure all those years ago, but 622-11 is down in the tomb, and 622-11 is a mutation capapble of obtaining Merlin, and bringing him home.
He's a gelatinous cube, Stan; a disgusting blob; a blasphemy to all the work we do here.
Well tonight, Sir, he is a giant, slithering, climbing, hungry lobster trap. Now let's do this! But please stop calling him a blasphemy -- his name is Devon.
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